


In Her Own Right

by TheSeeingStar



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Birth, Character Death, slight blood and gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27340816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSeeingStar/pseuds/TheSeeingStar
Summary: The birth of the Dragon Reborn from Tigraine's perspective.(This may turn into a multi-chapter as I find Tigraine's story fascinating.)
Kudos: 11





	In Her Own Right

Shaiel let out another anguished cry as pain ripped through her again. Wave after wave came and went, closer together, longer lasting. Of course, she’d felt this once before, or similar at least. " _No birth is exactly the same as another, every one is different._ " Her old nursemaid had told her once, when life had been so much simpler. It all felt like so long ago. Almost as though it had happened to another woman entirely. It had, in a way.

_Galadedrid_...

She smiled, cooing at her beautiful dark haired little boy. She stretched out a hand to push an errant lock from his forehead, before coming to her senses again and remembering where she was. Fear coursed through her, but she pushed it down. That was the Aiel way. With Galadedrid it had been different. She hadn’t had visions like these, she hadn’t felt so cold, hadn’t pushed for so long. There hadn’t been as much blood. But every birth was different.

Another gradually growing burst of pain, another wail, another gush of blood running over the rock below her, staining the snow. Pressure, intense, searing, burning pain just briefly, and relief. Her head spun. On her hands and knees already, she felt she might fall so she hunkered down, head resting on shaking arms. Sucking in a breath to try and clear the dizzy spell, she caught the heavy iron scent of blood. Blood? Why blood? Where was she? The wind whipped around her, strong but not cold. Or was it? It was impossible to tell, it didn’t seem to have any temperature to it at all. Odd.

" _Tigraine! What are you doing? Get up, father will have both our hides if he finds out I let you fall!"_

She looked up, eyes streaming tears brought on by the wind. Or the fall? Yes, the fall, it must be. Looking up at the familiar oak beside her, she’d only toppled from a low branch thankfully, but enough to wind her still. Luc huffed and jogged over to her, gripping her arm to help her to her feet.

" _You should be more careful._ " He muttered sourly. Only a child still but every inch the First Prince of the Sword. " _You’re to be queen one day. You can’t go climbing trees like that, you’ll break your fool neck, and then what will happen to the rest of us? What would happen to Andor? There’d be a war of succession, and thousands of good men would die, all because of you."_

"I’m sorry." She sobbed. When had she begun to cry? "I’m so sorry."

" _So you should be. Do you know what you’ve done? You abandoned them. You left them all, Mother, Taringail. Little Galad. Your own infant son, and you left him. On the unfounded word of an Aes Sedai._ " Luc tutted disgustedly.

"It was... necessary." She breathed weakly. Something cold and sharp dug into her forearms and knees, and she realised she was on the ground. Not in a grassy Andoran meadow beside a broad limbed oak from her childhood. On rock. On a mountainside.

Pain coursed through her again, but only a quiet moan escaped her this time. She had no more to give. Pressure again, her body reflexively pushing. She grunted with the effort.

And then, it was done. As if the whole thing had been a dream. No pain, no pressure, no feeling at all. Just exhaustion. A bone deep weariness she’d never experienced before. Not like when she had Galadedrid. But every birth was different.

A baby cried somewhere distant. Or close, perhaps, her ears felt muffled as though stuffed with wool. The wailing infant's screeching mewls reminded her of something. Galadedrid had cried just the same when he’d been born. A little bundle of flailing arms and legs, screaming and red faced, thrust into her arms as the pain was still barely fading. She hadn’t expected the love she’d felt in that instant. He was perfect. His tiny hand wrapped around one of her fingers, a shock of dark hair, lips wobbling as he calmed...

"Galad..." Shaiel smiled as the breath left her, drowned out by the wails of the newborn baby lying exposed and alone on the snow covered rocks of Dragonmount.


End file.
